


Perfect Strangers

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Bucky Barnes is the consummate ladies man, a different girl every night, no lasting relationships. You are a painfully shy bookworm terrified of getting involved with someone for fear of getting hurt. When the two of you literally run into each other, sparks fly.





	1. Knock, Knock, Who's There

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to my Marvel Roommate AU, Three's Company.

You could barely see where you were going, thanks to the bag of books in your arms and your glasses perpetually slipping down your nose. You were praying you wouldn’t stumble and fall on the stairs like you’d done on multiple occasions, often when you didn’t even have anything obstructing your view. For about the millionth time in the last few months you wondered why you’d moved into an apartment building without an elevator.

You swung around the corner, thankful you’d at least made it to the top of the stairs without falling, one arm holding the bag of books, the other digging through your purse for your keys. You heard the slam of a door, but it barely registered; you were concentrating on finding your keys, as usual not paying attention to the world around you.

Somebody slammed into you, hard enough to make you stumble back a couple of steps, the bag in your hand slipping and tumbling to the ground, bursting open, books everywhere.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” It was your neighbor, the cute one, the one that seemed to have a new girlfriend every other week. He dropped to one knee at the same time as you, scooping up several books. 

His fingers brushed against yours as the two of you reached for the same book, an electric shock jolting you. You yanked your hand away, startled.

“Thank you,” you murmured, refusing to look at him even as you took the book from his hand and stacked it with the others. You piled them in your arms and struggled to your feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, picking up another book that was resting against the wall. You still couldn’t look at him, you were too overwhelmed, too embarrassed. You spun on your heel and hurried down the hall to your door, jostling the books as you struggled to unlock it.

“At least let me help you,” he called after you.

“No, really, I’m fine,” you repeated. “You...you have a good day.” You pushed your way inside and slammed the door closed behind you.

You dropped the books into one of the baskets you kept by the door, a basket already piled with books, and pressed your hands to your flushed cheeks. You’d admired the handsome brunette from afar since you’d moved in; you’d seen him countless times coming and going from the building, but you’d never spoken to him. He’d smiled at you several times, though you were sure it was merely out of politeness more than anything else. You’d often imagined yourself responding to his smiles, maybe flirting with him a little, but that was a pipe dream. You were painfully shy, unable to even make eye contact, let alone flirt with someone. Besides, guys like your attractive neighbor didn’t like bookworms like you. Crap, guys in general didn’t like you.

You pushed yourself off the door with a resigned sigh and pulled off your oversized sweater, tossing it on the table by the door. You grabbed a few of the books off the pile you’d just made, examining the spines as you made your way to the kitchen. You were going to lose yourself in a book for a few hours. Maybe it would take your mind off of your run in with your neighbor. You were sure he’d already forgotten about it.

* * *

It had been long day, just as he’d suspected. He’d been insanely busy at work, Stark riding his ass to get the specs done for the propulsion system, Pepper calling every hour or so to check on his progress, and the pile of papers he needed to grade growing by the second. Then, it had been standing room only on the subway, everyone packed in together like sardines in a can, the subway car filled with the stench of sweat, old coffee, and urine. It smelled like exhaustion felt.

The last thing he wanted to do was go out to dinner with his sister and Steve. He hadn’t really agreed to go, so he was hoping to talk his way out of it and spend the evening with a six-pack of beer and the hockey game. Drown his sorrows in alcohol. It had worked before.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called over his shoulder as soon as the door shut behind him. He was sitting on the couch, a box of pizza open on the table in front of him, a beer in his hand, and the hockey game on the big screen television.

“Where’s my sister?” Bucky asked. He set his briefcase on one of the kitchen chairs, his suit jacket on top of it, pausing to roll up the sleeves of his pale blue dress shirt. He washed his hands and dried them on the towel hanging on the stove, then he opened the fridge, looking for the beer.

“Work,” Steve answered around a mouthful of pizza. “They lost a show for the season, so they’re scrambling to find a replacement. She won’t be back until late.”

“So I’m off the hook for dinner?” Bucky smiled.

“Yeah,” Steve shook his head, chuckling. “I know how excited you were to go. Grab me another beer, will ya?”

He grabbed two beers by the neck and kicked the door shut. As he turned, his eye caught the book sitting in the center of the kitchen table. He picked it up, flipping it over to look at the back as he made his way into the living room.

“Where’d the book come from?” he asked, waving it at his roommate. “Doesn’t look like your normal read. It’s not about World War II.”

Steve shrugged. “Found it on the floor out in the hall when I got home. Don’t know where it came from.”

“I do,” Bucky said, setting his beer on the table by Steve’s feet. “I’ll be right back.” 

He was out the apartment door before Steve could say anything else, the book clutched in his hand. He slid to a stop in front of the door he’d seen the girl with the books go through earlier. He pushed a hand through his hair, then he knocked, a quick double tap. He stepped back, arms crossed in front of him, and waited.

* * *

Nobody ever knocked on your door - nobody that was except for solicitors or people delivering food - so when you heard the double tap on the door, it surprised you enough that you jumped, your book falling to the floor and water from your glass splashing onto your lap.

The blanket on your lap joined the book on the floor as you catapulted to your feet and rushed down the hall to your door. You leaned against it, one eye to the peephole, peering out. Your cute neighbor, the one you’d collided with this morning, stood in the hallway, hands crossed in front of him, a book in one of them, a cocky smirk on his perfectly chiseled face, shoulders back, blue eyes flashing with what looked suspiciously like glee. 

You ducked, as if he could see you through the peephole, your breath caught in your throat, heart yammering, trying to pound out of your chest. This could not be happening. Attractive men did not knock on your door, ever. What the hell were you supposed to say? What the hell could he possibly want?

You chanced a quick glance in the mirror. You weren’t happy with what you saw - disheveled hair pulled up in a messy bun, glasses sliding down your nose, no makeup, your usual baggy clothes hiding your flaws, and that look of perpetual confusion on your face. You considered not answering the door, but another knock convinced you that you probably wouldn’t get away with it, that he’d just stand out there knocking until you answered.

With a heavy sigh, you pulled open the door, just a little, maybe a foot or two, and stuck your head out.

“Hi,” he grinned. It was enough to almost knock you off your feet.

“H-hello,” you squeaked. You cringed as the words left you, the heat rising in your cheeks. You sounded like a scared mouse. “C-can I help you?” What you really wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow you.

“I think you dropped this,” he said, holding out the book.

“What?” you muttered. You wanted to slap your hand against your forehead. God, could you sound anymore idiotic?

He laughed and shook his head. “This morning, when I crashed into you? I think this is yours. My roommate found it in the hallway.”

“Thank you.” You took the book, gingerly, careful not to touch him, remembering that weird shock that had rocketed up your arm this morning.

He offered you his hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

You eyed it warily, reached out, and grasped it. His fingers closed around yours; his hand was cool to the touch, there were callouses on the pads of some of the fingers, and his grip was sure and confident. It was probably your imagination, but it seemed like he held on a little longer than necessary.

“Y/N,” you whispered.

Bucky’s grin widened and he took a step closer to you. He leaned against the doorjamb, one hip jutting out, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Look, I’m sorry about this morning. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, taking a step back, your hand on the doorknob, squeezing it until your hand ached. “Thank you, again.”

Bucky put a hand out, stopping the door you were about to shut in his face. He cleared his throat, eyed you up and down and then said the last thing in the world you would have ever expected him to say.

“Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me sometime?”

 


	2. Coffee, Tea, or Pumpkin Spice Latte

 

Bucky closed the door carefully behind him and crossed the living room in just a couple of strides. He grabbed his beer and dropped to the couch beside Steve, feet propped on the coffee table. He was still trying to wrap his brain around what he’d just done.

“Why are you grinning?” Steve asked.

“What?” Bucky mumbled.

“You’re grinning,” Steve chuckled. “I know that look. Did you find some poor, defenseless woman unable to resist your charms out in the hallway?”

“I...uh, I asked our neighbor out for coffee,” he shrugged.

“What?” Steve sat up a bit straighter. “Which neighbor? The one that lives down at the end of the hall? Buck, I think she’s married.”

“No, Jesus, Steve, like I’d ask out a married woman. I don’t date women who are taken,” Bucky replied, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “I asked out the one that lives a couple of doors over.” He pointed helpfully in the direction of Y/N’s apartment.

“The one that wears glasses, always has her nose buried in a book, scurries away like a scared mouse anytime anyone talks to her? That neighbor?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, that neighbor,” Bucky replied. “That was her book you found. I returned it, asked her out, she said yes. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve laughed, his head thrown back. “She is so  _ not _  your type.”

“Oh, really?” Bucky snapped. “And what exactly is my type, Steve?”

“Buck -” Steve shook his head.

“Why do I have to have a type? What’s so wrong with me being interested in a woman who goes against my social norm? Maybe I thought it might be nice to go out with someone who wasn’t half drunk the moment I met her. Maybe I’m tired of trying to find the right woman at a bar or a club. Or maybe I just thought she was sweet and that she’d like to get coffee with me sometime.” Bucky pushed himself to his feet and stalked across the room, his bedroom door slamming closed behind him, the sound ricocheting around the apartment. He ignored Steve’s shouted apologies by flipping on the television and turning up the volume.

He wasn’t angry with Steve, not really. His best friend was only voicing the questions he’d asked himself almost as soon as he’d asked Y/N out for coffee. She  _ wasn’t _  his type, not anywhere near it, but for some reason, he’d asked her out. He wasn’t sure why, it had just popped out of his mouth and once it was out, he hadn’t wanted to take it back. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt the twist of nerves in the pit of his stomach as he’d stood waiting for her answer. It had felt like an eternity before she’d reluctantly agreed, though he suspected it was only to get him to go away.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d been thinking about her all day, ever since their run in in the hall this morning. There was just something about her - the way she smiled, so reserved, her eyes downcast, her shoulders hunched, the way she clutched the doorknob like it was a lifeline, even how her voice was so soft and low, forcing him to really concentrate if he wanted to hear what she was saying. All of those things fascinated him. He couldn’t wait to find out more about her.

* * *

You slid to the floor, your elbows on your knees, your head resting against your apartment door. What the hell had just happened? Somehow, you’d agreed to a coffee date with your cute neighbor. With Bucky. You hadn’t been able to think straight, not with those blue eyes boring into yours, staring into your soul, and you’d just wanted him to stop looking at you as if he was memorizing you, so you’d agreed, your mouth getting ahead of your common sense. You’d regretted it the second the door closed behind you.

It was like your life had turned into a bad romantic comedy. Guys like Bucky, that looked like Bucky, that could get any girl they wanted, those guys didn’t go out with girls like you. They didn’t ask you out for coffee, they didn’t stand in your doorway making small talk on a Thursday night, and they didn’t act like they were interested in you. This had to be a joke, or maybe he lost a bet with his roommate, or one of his other friends. You couldn’t fathom any other reason he would have asked you out.

“What kind of name is Bucky anyway?” you grumbled, pushing yourself to your feet. You threw the deadbolt and slipped the chain into place on the door, then grabbed a cup from the cupboard to make some tea. You sat at your tiny kitchen table while the water warmed in the microwave, your head in your hands.

You couldn’t go out with Bucky, you just couldn’t. The thought literally terrified you, made you wish that a hole would open in the ground and swallow you. You were shy, painfully shy, you always had been, ever since childhood. It was why you always had your nose buried in a book - it was your way of hiding in plain sight. If you went out with Bucky, you wouldn’t know what to say, how to act, you wouldn’t be able to function. And you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the stares of the other coffee shop patrons, judging you, wondering how and why someone that looked like Bucky was with someone like you. It would be nothing short of embarrassing and awkward, for both of you.  

There had to be some way you could get out of it, some excuse you could make. You had two days to come up with a reason not to go have coffee with Bucky. Dead grandmother, dead cat, sick aunt, you had to work, you were sick, a million reasons ran through your head. Or maybe you should just be honest and tell him you weren’t interested in dating him.

“Goddamn it,” you groaned.

There was no denying that there was a physical attraction, Bucky was, after all, gorgeous. You could get lost in those blue eyes of his, drown in the perfect pitch of his voice. But the attraction ended there, it was strictly physical. You suspected Bucky was one of those brainless playboy types whose intelligence ended with his knowledge of how to pick up girls. Not your type.

You couldn’t go out with Bucky, you just couldn’t. Not even on what would probably be a perfect date. Tomorrow morning you would march down the hall to his apartment and tell him that the date was a bad idea and you wouldn’t be going.

* * *

Thankfully, Steve and his sister had both left early, the two of them filling the apartment with their disgusting cuteness before taking off together, fingers intertwined, heads close together, whispering. Steve had wisely decided to not bring up their argument from the night before, merely nodding Bucky’s direction before letting his girlfriend drag him out the door.

For the first time in more than a week, Bucky didn’t have to be at the university early; he didn’t have a class until eleven and he’d sent the specs for the propulsion system to Pepper a little after midnight. So, he was sitting on the couch in his shorts and t-shirt, a bowl of cereal in his hand, ESPN on the television. He didn’t have the television turned up loud, it was more background noise than anything, but he still barely heard the light tapping at the door. At first, he actually thought he might be imagining things, but he got up and went to check, anyway. 

Y/N was standing on the other side of the door, a huge sweater practically swallowing her whole, her hair pulled back off her face, a few tendrils escaping, her glasses sitting on the end of her nose. She was tapping her foot impatiently and gnawing on her lower lip. 

He took a second to rest his head against the door and take a deep breath. What was it about this woman that had his gut twisted in knots and his head spinning? He hadn’t felt like this around a woman, ever. Women did not intimidate him, they didn’t make him nervous. They never had. But for some reason, this woman drove him crazy, made him so nervous his mouth was dry and his hands shook, made him rethink everything he was going to say and do.

Bucky blew out the breath he’d been holding and yanked open the door. Y/N jumped, grimacing.

“Hi,” Bucky breathed, putting on his best smile.

“H-hi,” she mumbled. She shifted from foot to foot, her hands fisted in the hem of her sweater. “I, uh, I wanted to, um...um…” She blew out a breath, those loose tendrils of hair around her face dancing slightly in the breeze it created. “I...I, uh, need to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Sure, doll,” he smiled, his forearm resting on the doorjamb as he leaned closer. He could tell he was making her nervous, so he resisted the compulsion to close the distance between them even more. “What’s up?”

She mumbled quietly, something he couldn’t hear. He had to lean closer, straining to hear her, the scent of amber and sandalwood surrounding him, a warm, comforting smell. It made him want to wrap her in his arms and bury his face against the side of her neck.

He bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to concentrate on the words she was mumbling, rather than the thought of her in his arms. He managed to catch “can’t” and “thanks, anyway,” before she turned to run back down the hallway. At least she looked like she wanted to run. He caught her elbow before she could get away, stopping her.

“What did you say?” he asked.

The words came out of her in a rush, tumbling over one another in an effort to get out. “I’m sorry I can’t go get coffee with you tomorrow but thanks anyway.” She yanked her arm free and sprinted back down the hall, refusing to look back at him even though he was calling her name. Her door slammed with a resounding crack.

Bucky stood in the hallway staring at the closed door for far longer than he should have. After a minute or two he stepped back into his apartment and closed the door. Alright, if she wouldn’t go out with him, he’d have to go with plan B. 

* * *

You’d been hiding in your apartment since Friday, literally sneaking out to go to work, worried you’d run into Bucky or even one of his roommates. Somehow you managed to come and go from work without seeing him, something you were immensely grateful for. You didn’t think you could handle it after bailing on the coffee date. Of course, he’d probably brushed it off already and moved onto some other available woman in the building.

You pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over your knees and flipped the page of your book. As much as you loved your job running the library at the university, you loved Saturdays even more; nothing to do but relax at home with a book. Your library could survive without you on the weekends; Mrs. Waverly had it under control, along with the student workers you’d hired. It was still early in the semester; most of the professors hadn’t assigned any major papers yet, except for Professor Barnes. He always started the semester with a bang and a research project, his students filling the library early on. Maybe one of these days he would come into the library - your domain - and introduce himself. You’d love to meet the professor the students on campus considered one of the toughest.

You’d just gotten comfortable, several pages into one of your favorite books, when you heard a knock on your door, followed immediately by your neighbor’s voice calling your name. You thought maybe you could ignore it, ignore  _ him _ , but apparently he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N,” Bucky yelled. “So you might as well open the door. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

For a brief second, you debated not getting up and answering, but you suspected Bucky really would stand out there until you opened it. With a sigh, you shoved off the blanket, set your book on the table, and made your way to the door.

Bucky was leaning against the wall across from your apartment, arms crossed, waiting. A grin spread across his face as soon as you opened the door and he pulled himself to his full height.

“Hi,” he said. God, that smile of his was damn near intoxicating.

“Hi,” you replied warily. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky bent at the waist and picked up two drink carriers loaded with drinks. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“What?” You shook your head. “Why?”

“Just for a few minutes, I promise,” he smiled. “Give me five minutes and then if you want me to leave, I will.”

You almost closed the door in his face, but the way he was smiling at you, the way his eyes were sparkling, you couldn’t seem to resist him. So, you nodded and pulled the door open all the way, stepping back and gesturing for him to come in. 

As you closed the door behind him, you had to swallow back the urge to vomit. Bucky was now standing in your apartment, in your kitchen, pushing books out of the way so he could set the drink holders on the table. He was so calm, so confident, acting like it was the most natural place for him to be. You inched closer, curious as to what he was up to.

“Since you wouldn’t go get coffee with me, I decided to bring the coffee to you,” he said. “But, I didn’t know what you liked, so, I got a variety. Black coffee, lightly sweetened coffee, pumpkin spice latte, some frothy thing with vanilla, I think it’s a frappacino, a caramel macchiato, and two kinds of herbal tea.” He took each drink out as he described it and lined them up on your table, before pulling out a chair and sitting down, looking very proud of himself.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured.

“I wanted to,” he shrugged. “Besides, we had a date. I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable here, without crowds of people.”

You tried not to smile, you really did, but you couldn’t help yourself, it spread across your face on its own volition. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that, as if he knew what you’d been thinking all along. Maybe it would be easier, away from the crowds. If he was willing to go to all this trouble, the least you could do was give him a chance. You slid into the chair across from Bucky and reached for one of the cups, the pumpkin spice latte, and took a sip. It was perfect.

Bucky picked up the black coffee and leaned back in the chair, smiling. “So, do I have to leave?”

 


	3. Nobody Said It Was Easy

 

You didn’t ask Bucky to leave, not just then. Instead, you grabbed your sweatshirt from the back of the chair and pulled it on, burying yourself in its oversized comfort, like a security blanket. You took a deep breath, but that didn’t stop the shaking in your hands, or the pounding of your heart. You took another sip of the coffee, peering at Bucky over the top of the cup.

“You have a lot of books,” he finally said, his eyes drifting around your apartment.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head, though you could still feel a blush heating your cheeks. That was an understatement. Any inch of available space was merely another place to put your books. Your bookshelves were overflowing, your coffee table and kitchen table were covered with books, and you had baskets filled with books all over the apartment. You always meant to get rid of the ones you’d already read, but it never seemed to happen.

“I do,” you said. “I like to read.”

“Looks like it,” Bucky smiled. “Let me guess...librarian?”

“Am I that cliche?” you blushed harder, if that was possible, staring at the top of the table, fiddling with the corner of one of your books.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s refreshing.”

“How’s that?” you asked.

Bucky rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. “The last few girls I dated, I’m not sure they’d ever read a book, let alone cracked one open. I’m not sure books and reading were their thing.”

“Books and reading are my only thing,” you murmured. “They have been my entire life. So, I’ve surrounded myself with the one thing that makes me happy. Books.”

Bucky put his elbows on the table and leaned closer, his full attention on you. You weren’t sure how long you could stare into those blue eyes or listen to that rich, full voice of his without, well, possibly dying. It was hard to believe he was sitting at your kitchen table, talking to you, listening to you, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he belonged there. 

You cleared your throat. Might as well make the best of your impromptu date and attempt to not look like a complete moron. “Wh-what about you? What’s your thing?”

He laughed, the sound filling the room, surprising you. He made a face, a very cute, ‘I’m concentrating really hard’ kind of face before answering. “You know what? I used to know what my thing was, but lately, I’m not so sure anymore.” He reached across the table and squeezed your hand, that crazy electric jolt rushing up your arm. 

Bucky must have felt it as well; his smile faltered the tiniest bit, replaced briefly with a look of confusion. It passed quickly, the smile returning. You stared at his hand covering yours, but you didn’t pull away.

“I should go,” he whispered after a few seconds. “I’m sorry I barged in here, forced you to drink coffee with me.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you grinned. “I...I like talking to you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bucky said, rising to his feet.

“Why?” you asked, following him to your front door.

He turned to face you, that damn smirk back on his face. He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, tugging you closer. He leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“Because I plan on asking you out again,” he murmured in your ear. He kissed your cheek one more time and then he was gone, your apartment door standing open.

* * *

It was several days before you saw Bucky again. You thought you’d be relieved; but in actuality, you were disappointed. Despite your best efforts to avoid it, you’d started to like Bucky. He’d been lingering in your thoughts for days; every time you’d walked out your door, you hoped you’d run into him; every time you’d heard someone out in the hallway, you hoped it was him. When he’d said he was planning on asking you out again, you’d felt a rush of excitement. But two days became three, then four, and by Wednesday night you’d convinced yourself that he’d changed his mind, that he wasn’t going to ask you out again.

Of course, you still weren’t convinced this wasn’t some cruel joke. It had happened before, in high school, when you’d fallen and fallen hard for one of your classmates. You had never suspected that he’d asked you out on a dare, never suspected that the whirlwind romance would leave you crying on your bedroom floor after the very public break-up and shaming session he’d engaged in to get rid of you. Ever since, you’d been more than wary of any man who expressed interest in you, refusing to believe that anyone could ever have feelings for you. You desperately wanted Bucky to be different.

As usual, you weren’t watching where you were going when you came up the stairs, hurrying to get back to your apartment after taking out the trash, your head down, staring at the keys in your hand, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, just wanting to get to your apartment door and inside without engaging anyone.

“Whoa, doll, watch where you’re going,” Bucky laughed, one arm sliding around you just before you walked right into him.

“Bucky, hi,” you gasped, stumbling into him even though he’d tried to stop you. You blushed and quickly righted yourself, trying, and failing, to untangle yourself from his arms. He kept his arm around you, smiling down at you.

“Hi,” he breathed. “You busy tonight?”

“N-no,” you shook your head. God, he made you feel so flustered.

“How about we watch a movie?” he said.

You glanced toward his half open apartment door, the sound of loud, raucous voices drifting into the hall. “I-I don’t think so,” you murmured.

“Oh hell, no,” he chuckled, following your gaze. “Not in there with those buffoons. I won’t subject you to that just yet.” He released you, grabbed the door, and pulled it closed. “I thought we could watch it at your place. If that’s alright with you?”

Jesus, did he really want to give up an evening with his friends to spend time with you? He’d probably hang out for an hour and then beg off. You almost let him off the hook, almost said no, but something about the earnest smile on your face made you decide differently.

“Um...okay,” you nodded. 

You gestured for him to follow you, noticing for the first time that there was a brown paper bag leaning against your door. Bucky snatched it up while you unlocked the door, digging through it as he followed you inside.

“You been home for awhile?” he asked.

“Couple of hours,” you shrugged. “I was coming back from taking out the trash when I ran into you.”

“Literally,” Bucky grinned. He pulled something from the bag and tossed it to you. You juggled it several times, nearly dropping it before securing your hold on it.

“The Princess Bride? Really?” You couldn’t believe that was the movie he’d chosen. It was one of your favorites, you’d seen it more times than you could count.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “I noticed the book on your kitchen table. It looked like you’d read it quite a few times, so I thought maybe you liked the movie, too.”

“I love the movie,” you murmured.

A half an hour later, you and Bucky were sitting side by side on your small couch, watching the movie and eating from the bowl of popcorn sitting between you. You had tried to push yourself into the corner, to keep your distance from him, but you were failing miserably; the only thing separating you was the bowl of popcorn. You were trying to concentrate on watching the movie, but Bucky was very distracting - sitting beside you in low slung jeans and a tight t-shirt, the smell of his cologne drifting over you, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours when you both reached for popcorn, his infectious laugh filling the room. You found yourself watching him more than the movie; he was intoxicating. You wondered what it would be like to sit beside him with his arm around you, cuddled up close. You could almost picture it, could even feeling yourself sliding closer to him -

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” you asked, abruptly shoving yourself to your feet.

“Hot chocolate?” Bucky mumbled. “Um…”

“I make this really great hot chocolate,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

You hurried to the kitchen and started pulling ingredients from the cupboards, sneaking a look at Bucky every few seconds. He looked so calm, so relaxed, so sure of himself, sprawled over your couch, looking like he’d been there forever, like he belonged, while you were a bundle of nerves, shaky and on edge. You envied him.

You leaned against the counter, your arms around yourself, trying to control your breathing. The hot chocolate had been an excuse to get away for a few minutes, to try and calm yourself down pull yourself together. Bucky probably thought you were insane; he was most likely wondering what he’d gotten himself into and how soon he could make his escape.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the boiling milk on the stove, drawing your attention away from your feelings of inadequacy. You really did make great hot chocolate and the shot of irish cream would go a long way toward calming your frazzled nerves. You prepared two mugs, topping both of them with a healthy dollop of whipped cream.

Bucky gave you a heart stopping smile when you came back into the room. He jumped to his feet, moved a stack of books from the coffee table to the floor, making room for the popcorn bowl and both of the mugs of chocolate, then he took one of the mugs from you, hissing under his breath when he touched the hot cup. When the two of you returned to the couch, Bucky sat right beside you, his leg pressed against yours, his arm over the back, close but not touching you.

His cologne wrapped itself around you once again, pushing its warm scent into your nose, fogging your brain. You needed a distraction, and fast. You raised your mug and pulled in a deep breath, the dark chocolate and whipped cream mixing together perfectly, slicing through the fog, clearing your mind just enough. You glanced at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

“Um...Y/N,” he chuckled, tapping the side of his nose.

“What?” You worried what idiotic thing you’d done to make a fool of yourself this time. You were about to make a run for it, hide in the bedroom or something, but Bucky’s arm fell from the back of the couch to rest lightly around your waist, holding you in place.

“Here,” he murmured. The pad of his thumb swiped across the tip of your nose, showing you the whipped cream you had managed to get on yourself from shoving your face into your drink. He pushed his thumb between his lips, sucking gently on it.

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, an indescribable need pushing through every nerve ending. You opened your mouth, probably to say something stupid, but you snapped it closed as Bucky moved closer, his arm tightening around your waist, his lips a breath away from yours. He was going to kiss you, and in that moment there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to feel his lips against yours.

The crash was loud, loud enough to make you and Bucky both jump, loud enough to ruin the moment, breaking the two of you apart. Bucky’s foot had hit the stack of books he’d set on the floor, which had hit another stack of books, which hit the end table and knocked over the precariously balanced table lamp you had sitting there, sending it crashing to the floor, shattering it to pieces.

Ten minutes later, after the mess was cleaned up, you and Bucky were standing at your front door. Once all the broken glass was in the trash, he’d shot a look at the clock, declaring that it had gotten late, he had to be up early, and he should go. So, you were now staring at the floor, shifting from foot to foot, your lower lip caught between your teeth, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides, wondering if he’d try to kiss you before he left,  _ hoping _  he’d try to kiss you before he left.

Instead, he grabbed your hand, squeezed it briefly, mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “I’ll see you later,” and disappeared out the door, leaving you staring after him.

“Bye,” you sighed.

* * *

Bucky raced down the hall to his own apartment, like his ass was on fire, the strangest feeling overcoming him.

Doubt.

He had always,  _ always _ , been able to get the girl. Any girl. There had never been a question of if or when, ever. Any girl he’d ever wanted had fallen head over heels for him.

Until Y/N.

He’d wanted to kiss her when they’d been standing there in front of her door, wanted to reignite the spark the broken lamp had put out, but she’d been staring at the floor, shifting from foot to foot, looking like she wanted nothing more than for him to leave. So, that’s exactly what he’d done.

He slammed the door behind himself harder than he intended. Everyone was gone, leaving just Steve and his sister - who was asleep on the couch - in the apartment.

“Hey, shhh,” Steve hissed. “She’s sleeping.”

“Sorry,” Bucky grumbled. He yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, popping the top and draining it in just a few swallows. He grabbed another one, kicked the fridge closed and dropped into a chair at the table.

“What’s wrong?” Steve sat down across from him. “I thought you were with the girl down the hall?”

“I was,” Bucky shrugged.

“Honestly, Buck, I didn’t expect you home tonight,” Steve said. “At least not at, what?” He looked at his watch. “Shit, eleven thirty. Or did you decide no sleepovers?”

“She’s not like that,” Bucky replied. “She’s different. Shit, I’m not even sure she likes me, you know?”

“You’re joking.” Steve shook his head. “None of your usual tricks working?” he chuckled. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, buddy,” Bucky muttered. “I just can’t figure her out. It’s not like it usually is with a woman I’m interested in, it’s not -”

“Easy?” Steve finished. He ignored the dirty look his friend shot him. “Buck, she’s not like the women you’re usually interested in. You’re going to have to work for this one. And when, hell,  _ if _  you win her over, this might be the real deal. At least for her. Don’t break her heart, Buck. Just don’t.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m gonna go to bed.” He pushed himself away from the table. “You leaving my sister on the couch?” he asked as he passed her and she started to stir.

“Hell, no,” Steve laughed, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder, drawing a half-hearted squeal from her. “She’s never sleeping on that couch again.”

Bucky chuckled and ducked into his bedroom. He peeled off his clothes and fell into his bed. He really did have to be up early, that’s why he’d called it a night. Stark was coming by the lab to take a look at the progress on the prototype and Pepper was coming with him. He had a huge presentation planned because he was going to ask for more money and a research assistant. He had to be at the top of his game.

But, instead of falling asleep, he was staring at the ceiling, going over every move, every word, every little thing he had done earlier that evening, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong. He was making himself crazy. He couldn’t get Y/N out of his head, the way she smelled, how soft her skin was, the sound of her voice, how crazy beautiful she was, even though she didn’t seem to know it. He’d close his eyes and all he could see was her, all he could think about was how her lips would feel moving against his, how she would taste.

“Screw this,” he muttered, tossing the blankets aside. He grabbed a pair of shorts from the floor and yanked them on. He threw open his bedroom door, barefoot and shirtless, stalked through the apartment, out the front door, and down the hall to Y/N’s. Without hesitating, he pounded on her door, not relenting until she opened it.

Her hair was down, not pulled up in a ponytail or a bun, no glasses, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt and oversized boxers, though he could see more of her than he’d ever seen before, fanning the flames of his desire. She was squinting, her eyebrows drawn together, her mouth in a tight, irritated line.

“Bucky? What the hell?”

That was the only thing he let her get out before he crossed the threshold, and grabbed her, his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks, his mouth on hers, his tongue dancing across her lips. She gasped, her hands on his wrist, but she wasn’t resisting, wasn’t pulling away, in fact she was leaning into him, her mouth opening, the taste of hot chocolate still on her tongue.

Bucky groaned, one hand drifting down her arm and around her waist, her body now flush against his, her fingers sliding up into his hair, tugging it a little as the kiss deepened. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, staring into each other’s eyes.

“That’s how I should have said good night,” Bucky murmured.

 


	4. Turn the Page

It was crazy, a whirlwind romance, just like you read about in books. Most days you felt like you were dreaming, that it wasn’t real. The morning after that first kiss, you’d stumbled from your room, completely convinced it had all been a dream, Bucky showing up at your door shirtless and barefoot, kissing you senseless. But the note on the floor, obviously slid beneath your apartment door, scrawled in barely legible chicken scratch, convinced you otherwise.

_I’m taking you to dinner tonight. No arguments._   
_Bucky_ _  
P.S. I need your phone number._

You’d giggled like a schoolgirl, heat flooding your cheeks. You had folded the note up and stuffed it in your bag, where it was still sitting, more than a week later.

Ever since your first kiss, you had spent almost every night with Bucky - he’d taken you out to dinner, nothing special, just the pizza place on the corner; he’d let you cook for him at your apartment, your homemade macaroni and cheese; he’d hung out and watched a baseball game while you’d read a book; he’d even fallen asleep on your couch one night after coming by to see you after working late. The two of you had barely exchanged two sentences before he was lying his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, soft snores coming from him just minutes later. You’d thrown a blanket over him and then you’d sat watching him sleep, still astonished that he wanted to spend time with you, that it wasn’t some horrible prank.

Now you were following him, your hand clutched in his, no idea where you were going. Bucky had texted you this afternoon and told you that the two of you had a date and he would pick you up at seven. He’d been prompt, right on time, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Where are we, Bucky?” you asked. You’d gotten twisted and turned around after taking two trains and a cab to your destination.

“Brooklyn,” he answered. “I want to show you something.” He stopped in front of a small storefront on the corner. “Here we are.”

You took a step back to read the sign above the door. **_Turn the Page_ **.

“What is this?” You eyed him suspiciously.

Bucky pulled open the door and gestured for you to go inside. “Come on, you’ll see.”

You stepped across the threshold, the smell of books immediately assaulting you. You stopped, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Spread out in front of you was a large space, unbelievably large considering the size of the storefront you’d just walked into, every inch of it crowded with bookshelves overflowing with books. Signs pointed you toward every imaginable genre, there were tables situated in various locations, each one covered in stacks of books, more signs declaring the table’s theme prominently placed in the center of each one. A wrought iron staircase stood at the back of the store, spiraling up into another level, a sign pointing up with the words “Marauder’s Level” on it; you could hear children’s voices echoing through the space.

“You brought me to a bookstore?” you said, turning to look at Bucky.

“I thought you might like it,” he shrugged, looking around. “Wanda!”

A young, beautiful brunette was making her way towards the two of you. She was ethereal, stunning, and you immediately felt a surge of jealousy, and intense inadequacy in her presence. She hugged Bucky, whispered something in his ear, then she turned to look at you.

“Y/N, this is my friend, Wanda Maximoff. Her grandparents own this place,” Bucky said. “Wanda, this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your heart skipped at the word girlfriend. Was that what you were? Were you Bucky’s girlfriend? You chanced a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He was watching you, not even looking at the beautiful young woman standing beside him, his brows drawn together in concern. You gave him a tentative smile and stuck out your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Wanda,” you said.

Wanda shook your hand, her smile widening, warm and inviting. “You, too, Y/N,” she said. “I understand you’re a book lover.” She had an accent you couldn’t quite place.

“I guess I am,” you nodded, blushing.

“Well, then you’re in the right place,” Wanda grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

“O-okay,” you murmured, looking over your shoulder at Bucky. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, gesturing for you to follow Wanda.

The next few hours were spent following Wanda around, Bucky laughing at your obvious delight when you discovered something new, holding the books you shoved into his hands, bringing you coffee from the small tea and coffee bar at the back of the store. He even sat patiently by while you had a nearly forty-five minute discussion with Wanda’s grandfather about the best way to organize the books for maximum marketability.

When the two of you finally emerged from the bookstore, Bucky’s arms laden with two bags of books, Wanda waving goodbye from the doorway, you were giddy with excitement, bouncing on the balls of your feet, talking nonstop about everything you’d just seen, everything you’d experienced. You were in love with the little bookstore and you didn’t ever want to leave.

Bucky set the bags on the ground between his feet and pulled you into his arms. You giggled, your hands over your face, your heart pounding, your cheeks flushed, unable to believe you were the same woman you’d been a week ago. He brushed a kiss across your lips, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Did you have fun?” he asked.

“Yes,” you laughed. “It was amazing! Thank you!” You threw your arms around his neck, pushing up on your toes to hug him.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, his lips pressed to your ear. “I’ve got one more thing to show you.” He scooped the bags off the ground and hailed a cab.

A half an hour later, you started to recognize the buildings around you and when the cab pulled to a stop, you knew exactly where you were. You followed Bucky out of the cab, confused.

“What are we doing here?” you asked.

“I thought I’d show you my office and the project that keeps me working late,” he shrugged. “If you want.”

“Wait? You work here, at the university?” You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at him.

Bucky turned to look at you, nodding. “Yes, in the science department. Why?”

“I work here, Bucky,” you murmured. “I run the library.” You took a deep breath. “Um, Bucky, what’s your full name?”

“Barnes,” he answered. “James Barnes. My middle name's Buchanan, so I became Bucky as a kid.”

“You’re Professor Barnes?” you gasped.

“I am,” he chuckled. “And if you run the library, that must mean you’re the tyrant that all the students talk about?”

You started laughing, so hard that you had to sit down on one of the metal benches lining the sidewalk, your head in your hands, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. Who knew that you and Bucky had been so close all this time and never crossed paths.

He dropped the bags on the bench and knelt in front of you, his hand on your leg. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, wiping away the tears. “It’s just...small world, you know? It’s ironic that we’ve been so close, literally all these years, but we never stumbled into each other before, you know? It’s kind of crazy.”

Bucky took your hands in his. “I was walking around with my eyes closed,” he murmured. “I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, couldn’t see what I wanted, not until I ran into you. You changed my life, Y/N.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling your hand free so you could rest it on his cheek. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy for you,” he shrugged. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Come on, I’ll show you my office.” He dragged you to your feet. “Then you can show me yours.” He winked, laughing as you made a face, turning and sprinting up the sidewalk as you gave chase.

If only he knew how much he was changing your life, too.

* * *

“So, when do we get to meet this mystery woman who has managed to capture the heart of our resident ladies man?” Nat asked, downing the last of her beer.

“Never,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll scare her away.” He was laughing, but he definitely wasn’t kidding. His core group of friends - his sister, Steve, Nat, Clint, Sam, and Wanda - were a raucous bunch. Loud, crazy, and yes, fun-loving, but a lot to take. Y/N was shy, quiet, kept to herself. She definitely wasn’t used to being with a group of people like his friends.

“Wanda got to meet her,” Nat argued.

“Wanda isn’t loud and scary,” Bucky joked. “Or sarcastic and sassy.”

“I’m a redhead, Buck,” Nat laughed, “it’s our nature.” She grabbed another beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. “But seriously, when do we get to meet Y/N?”

“She’s really shy, Nat,” Bucky shook his head. “Painfully shy. I don’t want to scare her away. You’ll get to meet her. Eventually. Besides, you guys all have big mouths,” he threw a pointed look at Nat, “and I haven’t quite told her about my past relationships.”

“Bucky, you don’t have any past relationships,” Steve scoffed.

“Exactly,” Bucky said.

“She lives two doors down, maybe we should just walk over and say hi,” Clint piped up.

Bucky shot a glare in his friend’s direction. “I will kill you,” he warned. “Don’t you dare go over there.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint laughed. “This is serious, isn’t it? You really like this woman.”

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky shrugged. He liked her more than anyone in this room, except maybe Steve, realized.

“Have you slept with her?” Nat asked.

“Whoa, Nat!” his sister yelled from across the room. “TMI!”

“It’s a legitimate question,” Nat said. “Look, we all know that Bucky is a ladies man. We’ve all seen the women he’s paraded in and out that bedroom door. None of those relationships lasted more than, what, a few weeks, maybe a month? The common factor in all of those encounters is they started out in the same place. The bedroom. So, I wanna know? Are you sleeping with her?”

A collective groan worked its way through the room, the group bemoaning the fact that Nat was even asking these questions.

“No, no,” Bucky raised his voice to be heard over his friends. “It’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “Not that it’s really anybody’s business, but no, I haven’t slept with Y/N. And we’ve been dating for almost three weeks. That’s not...I’m not in this to get laid. I genuinely like this woman. I’m not gonna rush her into anything. Not until she’s ready.”

The apartment had gone shockingly quiet, everyone staring at him like he’d grown another head. Steve was smirking, his sister had the world’s sappiest smile on her face, and everyone else, well, they looked shocked. Bucky wasn’t surprised. He was kind of shocked himself. Y/N had wormed her way into his heart like no other woman ever had. He’d never felt like this before. He was terrified he was going to do something to mess it up.

“Well, now I’ve heard everything,” Clint muttered. “I think I need another beer.” He snatched one from the fridge and leaned against the table. “Okay, obvious subject change, but when do you find out if Pepper’s gonna give up more dough? I got money riding on you finally _not_  getting what you want.”

The group burst out laughing and before Bucky knew it, the conversation had moved on to other things. He was grateful; he didn’t enjoy having his love life scrutinized. He glanced at his watch, hoping that he could escape, go see Y/N, but she wasn’t home yet; she’d had to work late at the university library.

Two hours later, his friends were gone and he was half drunk, his thoughts constantly turning to Y/N. He was getting antsy, checking his watch every few minutes, knowing she would be home any minute.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Buck,” Steve said.

“Neither have I,” his twin added. “You’re almost giddy.”

“I am not giddy,” Bucky scoffed. “I’m just...I don’t know -”

“In love?” Steve asked.

He felt the huge grin spread across his face and he couldn’t hold back the giggle that erupted. God, he was giggling, over a woman, and it felt great. He backed through the kitchen door, arms flailing, bouncing on his toes.

“I hate you guys,” he yelled as he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment, turning towards Y/N’s. That was where he wanted to be, with her.

* * *

You’d had a standing lunch date everyday since you’d found out that Bucky was actually Professor Barnes. Some days he came to the library, other days you met him. Today you’d taken the rather short walk across campus to the Science department to meet him for lunch.

You were quietly waiting for the elevator, along with several groups of people, your hands in your sweater pockets, staring intently at the floor, trying not to draw attention to yourself. You might have been opening up with Bucky, growing more and more comfortable with him as the trust developed, but you still felt like an outsider just about every other place you went.

The doors opened and you slipped inside, stepping unnoticed to the back corner of the elevator, three college students beside you, a couple of professors in front and to the left, and two men who looked vaguely familiar off to your right. One of them pushed the button for the floor you needed, so you stepped back, gathered your sweater around yourself, and watched the floors tick by, trying not to listen to the conversations going on around you.

“What time did Bucky say to be there?” one of the men in front of you said.

Your ears perked up at the sound of his name. You opened your mouth to say something, forgetting for a moment where you were and that you didn’t know either of these men. You still hadn’t met any of Bucky’s friends, aside from Wanda, begging off anytime Bucky suggested it, still too nervous to entertain the thought of meeting such important people in his life. You squinted, pushed your glasses up your nose, and scrutinized the two men. You were pretty sure you’d seen one or both of them coming and going from your apartment building at some point in time.

“We’re definitely late, Clint,” the other man said.

There it was. One of them was Bucky’s friend, Clint. You still weren’t sure who the other man was. They were obviously at the university to see Bucky.

“So, how exactly do you think he convinced her to say yes?” Clint asked.

“Who knows?” the other man shrugged. “Sleeping with her was out of the question, so he had to figure out some other way to charm her.”

“Shit, Sam, that’s not hard for Bucky,” Clint chuckled.

“All he’s got to do is flash those baby blues at the woman and she’s falling over her feet to give him what he wants,” the guy named Sam laughed. “But seriously, I didn’t think he’d win her over. I even bet Steve twenty bucks he wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I lost fifty dollars to Bucky,” Clint said. “I didn’t think he’d be able to do it. She seemed like a tough nut to crack. So much for what I know about women. I’m lucky I’ve got Nat.”

“Damn right you are,” Sam agreed.

The elevator lurched to a halt, the doors opening, everyone but you and the men you now knew to be Bucky’s friends stepping out. You reached out, your hand seeking the thick, gold railing that surrounded the elevator walls. You grasped it, so tight the edge dug into your palm hard enough to hurt. The doors slid shut.

Clint cleared his throat. “You think we’re ever going to get to meet Y/N? They’ve been dating for almost a month, haven’t they? How long is he going to hide her from us?”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s afraid we’ll spill the truth about him, that she’ll find out everything,” Sam laughed. “If I was a woman, it would make me reconsider dating him.”

There was a loud mechanical ding and the elevator doors slid open. Bucky’s floor. The two men stepped out, but you didn’t move, just stared after them as they made their way down the hall, still gripping the railing tight enough to hurt.

The first tear didn’t fall until the elevator doors closed and it started back down.

 


	5. Back Against the Door

Y/N had missed their lunch date and she wasn’t returning any of his phone calls or text messages. As soon as his last class of the day had ended, he’d hauled ass over to the library, but according to the girl behind the desk, she had gone home early, hours ago.

“Was she okay?” Bucky asked.

“She wasn’t sick,” the girls shrugged. “All she said was she had to go. Gathered her stuff and ran out of here like she was Cinderella and the clock was striking midnight.”

Bucky thanked her and hurried off campus to catch the next train. He kept trying to call her, kept sending her text after text, but she wouldn’t answer. He was worried, beyond worried. Something was wrong.

Of course, the train seemed to take twice as long, the crowds of people seemed to be twice their normal size. Unable to take it anymore, worried out of his mind, he called Steve and begged him to go down the hall and check on Y/N. Steve agreed, promising to call as soon as he talked to her.

Waiting for Steve to call him back was the longest fifteen minutes of his life. He was off the train and only a few blocks from the apartment when his phone rang.

“Steve? What did she say?”

“She wouldn’t even open the door, Buck,” Steve replied. “I had to talk to her through it. And all I could get out of her was that at least she knew the truth now, that she should have known better, that she was a fool to believe you really cared about her. She said that she doesn’t want to talk to you, to see you. Then she begged me to go away and leave her alone.”

“What?” Bucky muttered. “What the hell is she talking about?”

“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve said. “What did you say to her?”

“I haven’t talked to her since this morning,” Bucky growled. “The last thing I said to her was ‘see you at lunch’ then I kissed her on the cheek and walked away. Fuck!”

He disconnected the call and took off at a sprint down the street, dodging the multitude of people who had become an obstacle to Y/N. By the time he hit the top of the stairs, he was sweating bullets and out of breath, but he didn’t stop at his apartment, but stalked past it, going directly to Y/N’s door. He dropped his backpack on the floor, raised his hand and pounded on the door.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he yelled. “Let me in.”

* * *

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Bucky was standing outside your door, asking to come in. He’d left half a dozen messages and sent you three times that in text messages. He’d even sent Steve over to talk to you, though you’d refused to let him in.

You’d been devastated when you’d overheard Clint and Sam in the elevator. They’d confirmed what you’d feared all along - that Bucky’s feelings for you weren’t genuine, that you had been the butt of a cruel, cruel joke, exactly as you’d been back in high school. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, but you couldn’t deny what you’d overheard.

“Go away, Bucky,” you murmured, your forehead resting on the cold oak of the door. “Please, just go away.” You were going to cry, again. You could feel it building, threatening to break free.

“No,” he replied. “I need to know what happened. I need to know why you’re pushing me away.”

“It’s over, Bucky,” you said. “You had your fun, proved that you can get any woman you want. You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. I’m letting you off the hook, okay? Go back to your life, to your parade of women.” You choked back a sob. “Just go away.”

There was no response, just silence, though you didn’t hear the telltale sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hallway. A quick look out the peephole showed you Bucky leaning against the wall across from your door, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. He was so damn stubborn.

Well, he couldn’t stay out there forever. He’d go away eventually. You’d just have to wait him out.

* * *

“Hey, Buck,” Steve nudged him with his foot.

He looked up at his best friend, took the proffered beer, and let Steve pull him to his feet. He nodded his thanks.

“You coming in any time soon?” Steve asked.

“Not until I talk to Y/N,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve leaned against the wall beside him. “You’ve been out here for hours,” he said. “Why don’t you come in for the night? Talk to her in the morning.”

Bucky was shaking his head before Steve finished his sentence. “No. I’m staying right here until she opens the door and talks to me.”

“Your sister sent me out here to get you. If I go back in there without you, I’m gonna get my ass chewed.”

“Then I guess you’re getting your ass chewed,” Bucky replied. “Sorry.”

“Buck,” Steve shook his head, “come on, man.”

“Tell my sister to butt out,” he growled. “This whole situation is fucked. One minute Y/N and I are fine, shit, better than fine, and the next, she won’t even talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can fix it.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “But, can I make one suggestion?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Shoot.”

“Tell her how you feel,” his best friend suggested. “Lay it out for her.”

“Steve -” he mumbled.

“You heard me, Buck,” Steve said. “Tell her how you feel. It’s the only thing that will save this. Trust me, I know. Take it from someone who almost blew it with the woman he loves. You have to be honest.” He didn’t wait for a response, but spun on his heel and returned to their apartment.

Bucky slid to the floor, head against the wall, staring at the door in front of him. He had been sitting in front of Y/N’s apartment for hours and he would continue to sit there until she opened the door. She couldn’t stay in there forever. He just had to wait her out.

* * *

You hadn’t heard anything from outside your apartment door in quite awhile, more than an hour in fact. The last time you’d looked out the peephole, Bucky was still sitting outside, leaning against the wall across from your door. Frustrated that he wouldn’t just give up and go home, you’d kicked the door, hard enough to make your foot hurt and hard enough that Bucky had stirred, sitting up straight, his head cocked to one side.

“Y/N?” he’d called.

You’d ducked, as if he could see you, chastising yourself as soon as you did it. Of course he couldn’t see you. You’d returned to the living room and picked up your book, though you were having a hard time concentrating on anything.

This time, you had no intention of letting him know that you were looking out the peephole, that was if he was still out there. You tiptoed down the hall and leaned carefully against the door, nothing touching it but the tips of your fingers. Before looking through the peephole, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, sending up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be there.

Bucky was gone.

Your breath caught in your throat and your stomach did a weird flip. You hated to admit it, but you were a bit disappointed that he wasn’t out there, that he’d given up so easily. At least it let you know how he really felt.

The only indication that he’d been there was an empty beer bottle lying on the floor. Irritated that you had to clean up after him, you flipped the lock and yanked open the door, only to have Bucky fall backwards into your apartment, his head hitting the floor.

You shrieked, stumbling backwards, while he yelped and jumped to his feet, rubbing a hand over the back of his head. Your feet tangled and you would have gone down if Bucky hadn't grabbed you, keeping you upright. You put your hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but his grip on you was bruisingly tight.

“Let me go,” you bit out.

“Y/N, listen to me -”

“Get out of my apartment, Bucky,” you muttered.

“No, not until you tell me what the hell is going on.” Bucky argued. “I’ll leave once you explain to me why you missed lunch, why you’re hiding from me in your apartment, and what all that crap you were saying earlier meant. You tell me what I did and I will leave. But not before.” He released you and shut the door, standing in front of it with his arms crossed. “Now talk,” he ordered.

“I know what you did,” you whispered. All you had to do was get yourself through this, tell him you knew the truth, then he would leave and it would be over. You could go back to your quiet, boring life.

“Great, maybe you could tell me,” he snapped. “Because I have no clue what is going on.”

You pushed up the sleeves of your sweater and carded a hand through your hair. You wanted to scream. “I know why you asked me out, Bucky. The _real_  reason. I overheard your friends in the elevator today.”

“What do you mean, you overheard my friends? Clint and Sam? You were in the elevator with them? What did they say to you?”

“They didn’t say anything _to_  me. But I heard every word they said - how you convinced me to say yes, how they had a bet with you that I wouldn’t, how they didn’t think you could win me over. I heard all of it. I should have known that it was bullshit, I should have known that someone like you, a guy who could have any woman he wanted, would never be remotely interested in someone like me.” You dragged in a long, stuttering breath. “You can’t just toy with people’s emotions, Bucky. I’m not some wager to be won or lost.”

“I don’t know what you think you heard, Y/N, but I didn’t do any of that. I asked you out because I wanted to. Because I’m attracted to you. Whatever other reason you think there might be, it, well, it doesn’t exist.”

You shook your head, walking backwards as he walked toward you. “I heard them, Bucky.”

“I don’t doubt that you heard something,” he said. “But, I swear to you, I would never ask you out on a bet. I _didn’t_  ask you out on any kind of bet.”

“But-but Clint said he lost money to you,” you argued.

Realization dawned on Bucky’s face. He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “Shit,” he mumbled. “He was talking about Pepper, Y/N. Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries.”

“What?”

“I had a meeting with her not that long ago,” he explained. “Stark Industries is funding my research. I needed more money _and_  a research assistant. Pepper is a notorious hardass, never wants to give up any more money than she has to. Clint and Sam didn’t think I’d get what I asked for, Steve and I did. Bets were placed. I found out today that she’d agreed to give me the money and the research assistant. Of course, I let everybody know, bragging rights.”

“But they said you wouldn’t want me to find out the truth about you, that I wouldn’t want to date you -”

Bucky took a tentative step closer, and this time you didn’t back away. “I was afraid to tell you about my past. I suck at relationships, Y/N. In fact, I’ve never had a meaningful relationship, never had one that lasted longer than a few weeks. Shit, I’ve had a longer relationship with the barista that makes my coffee at Starbucks than I’ve had with a woman.”

“That’s not true,” you shook your head, refusing to believe it. You knew Bucky had dated a lot; you did live just down the hall from him, saw his comings and goings, saw all the different women he’d had in and out of the apartment, but it had never occurred to you that none of them had been a lasting relationship.

“Oh, it’s true,” Bucky chuckled. “It was true until I met you.” He dragged in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I’m...shit, I can’t believe I’m gonna say it out loud, even though I’ve been thinking it for awhile now…”

“Bucky?” you murmured.

He closed the distance between you and grabbed your forearms, drawing you tight against him, his blue eyes flashing, his body trembling.

“I’m falling in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered, as if saying it too loud would somehow negate the words. He pressed his forehead to yours, his warm breath blowing across your face. “And I swear to you, I would never do anything to hurt you. I promise.”

“Really?” you breathed.

“Really.” Bucky dipped his head, caught your lips in his and then he was kissing you, the kind of kiss you’d only read about in books, the kind of kiss that made you believe in love, made you believe in him.

You were breathless when he finally broke off the kiss, clinging to him so you wouldn’t collapse, your arms around his neck, words escaping you.

“So, do I have to leave?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you laughed, shaking your head so hard your hair flew in your face. “I don’t ever want you to leave.”

The End

 


End file.
